"Nice work. We'll start looking at financial records, communications trails…get the ground work rolling on this. I'll walk this over to Counter-Intel," he said.
"Take it to HUMINT, too. They need to know what to start looking for immediately. Have them look back at least one year. Eight simultaneous murders? I guarantee this has been in the works for months, if not years," said the Director.
"No mention by Sharpe of a possible leak?" asked Berg.
"Not to the group…or to me."
"That's not much of a surprise. He doesn't completely trust you, and he needs the task force to focus on evidentiary procedure. Any mention of a leak this early would undermine the investigation," Audra said flatly, then added, "We need to let them focus on what they do well, while we start digging into all the possibilities."
They all nodded, and the Director stood up. Berg and Keller joined her.
"Alright, I'm going to brief the Deputy. Keep me directly in the loop on everything. I'm not sure what we'll get from our in-house FBI liaison. He's back in D.C. doing the same thing you're doing. Randy, I need you to figure out a way to get us inside their interrogation efforts. I'm tempted to send someone out to Boston," she said from the door.
"I don't think it will be necessary. Sharpe made it clear that he wanted a live interrogation feed, and I don't plan to stray very far from Sharpe's side, unless something interesting pops up," said Keller.
"Stay close. I don't think Sharpe has thought this through all the way. He's sending a special team up to Boston with special orders that may not play out too well over a live feed. He'll shut it down pretty quickly if Mr. Carlisle pushes the envelope," she said and left the room.
"Back to DC with you. Good work on this. Let me know what you need, and it's yours," said Berg.
"I think I'm going to need a cot for my office."
"For what? I can't imagine any upcoming scenario in which you sleep."
"Good point. I'll see if we can get in on the feed from Boston. One way or another," he said.
"Now that would be an epic score on your part," said Berg.
"That's why you have me over in FBI land."
"Among other reasons. Make sure to grab whatever you need on the way out. I'll call tech support as soon as you leave my office, which should be in a few seconds."
"I'm gone," he said, and closed the door behind him.
Keller weaved his way through the growing crowd of analysts, displaying a combination of strained smiles and harried expressions that effectively discouraged anyone from engaging his attention. He reached the elevator bank unmolested and jabbed the down button several times. He needed to get back to FBI headquarters before the Boston interrogation began.
Chapter Six
Daniel stared intensely at the flat screen monitor in his office. His door was closed, and he hadn't been interrupted since he arrived at 7:45, nearly thirty minutes ago. This came as no surprise, since everyone was busy poring over their reports and preparing their elevator speeches. The overseas marketing division had a meeting at 9:00, followed by a general marketing department meeting at 10:00. It was that time of the month for mother Zenith.
Sitting in his cubicle, Daniel was extremely worried. He didn't like what he had uncovered on the internet. A simple Google search yielded seven additional murders similar to the one in Cape Elizabeth. Wealthy Muslims, all murdered last night. Details were sketchy in most cases, almost as if they had been withheld. In one case, the Google link was no longer active. This story had been filed in the Providence Journal, and its tag line had peaked Daniel's interest the most:
"In Newport, a prominent businessman was found shot to death on his patio…local authorities report suspect in custody."
He didn't like the idea of a suspect in custody. He was pretty sure Sanderson wouldn't like it either.
He sifted through the favorites file again, and examined the information.
"Muslim art trader slain outside of Mount Pleasant Home. Apparent close range shooting…"
"Couple killed in bizarre drive-by shooting, while walking at night in the Eastport subdivision of Annapolis. Killings shock neighbors, who describe Sa'id and Adia Faris as generous, peaceful members of their small community. No suspects in shooting…"
"Jibran Nazir's body was found by his wife outside of the entrance gate to their Hampton estate. The passenger side of Nazir's car was riddled with bullets, leaving him dead on the scene…"
Daniel clicked the mouse button on the next link. "The link you have requested is inactive or no longer exists."
Someone is shutting this down quick.
He quickly shuffled through two more links. Two more shootings, one a break-in at a Rye waterfront townhouse, husband and wife murdered; another in the upper west side of Manhattan, doorman and Asim Shareef executed just inside the lobby of an exclusive apartment building. Three out of the eight articles mentioned federal law enforcement involvement, which included the stabbing of Mohammed Ghani, on the driveway of his Shore Road residence in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Only one stabbing? Interesting.
He entered several different search strings for the murder that concerned him the most. Nothing. The murder in Newport, Rhode Island had been erased from the public's eye, which was an unsettling development. If the Feds actually caught the killer, Daniel's life could unravel quickly. He softly pounded the keyboard tray with a closed fist.
He should have known better than to take the assignment, but he got lazy. He had enjoyed five great years with Jessica, finally settling into a "normal" life he could tolerate. He didn't take much pleasure in his job, but who did? He needed the normalcy and dullness of a civilian routine to suppress the urges fostered by Sanderson's programming.
He didn't want to start over again, so he took the job thinking that Sanderson would go away. Maybe he should have refused and taken the hard route. Vanish and rebuild with Jessica somewhere else. Maybe it didn't matter. It looked like either choice would have led to the same result. Sanderson was up to something big, and it was about to swallow them whole.
Daniel closed the internet browser, and turned his attention to the files stacked up on his desk. He needed to maintain appearances for at least a few more hours; despite how very little he now cared about Zenith's overseas emerging markets.
Chapter Seven
Special Agent-in-Charge Sharpe stared up at the three plasma screen monitors in the task force operations center. The screens had changed very little over the course of the morning, and he was starting to feel despondent about the day's affairs. Eight separate crime scenes, and Sharpe had very little to show for their investigative progress. A few sets of partial footprints, scattered witness statements and a flurry of ballistics reports, which had so far told them nothing they couldn't determine with their own eyes. The victims were either knifed, shot in the face with a pistol at close range, or shot in the head with a sniper rifle from a longer range. It was pretty easy to tell the difference between the pistol and sniper kills; the pistol rounds left the heads intact.
"We don't have shit," he stated to Special Agent Mendoza, who had just entered the room with a stack of papers.
"We have one of the shooters," said Mendoza, joining Sharpe at the screens.
"And he hasn't said shit. We don't even know who he is, and we still haven't found his car. All we know about this guy is that he's pretty handy with a scoped Remington 700 rifle. I'm not even sure that advanced interrogation techniques would be effective with this guy," said Sharpe.